


Spark of Chaos

by AceTrainerAlicia



Series: The Adventures of Jaina: A Faith Renewed [12]
Category: Runescape
Genre: Blackmail, F/M, Sliske is still a bastard, a concerned bastard but still a bastard, questfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceTrainerAlicia/pseuds/AceTrainerAlicia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was bad enough that she was being blackmailed into assisting with Zamorak’s heist of the Stone of Jas–but why was her greatest enemy warning her not to get into physical proximity to the chaos god or his followers? It wasn’t like him to be concerned for her… (Takes place during Dishonor Among Thieves)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She woke to the sound of a symphony of animal noises all around her and her head feeling like it had been struck by a thunderbolt. Slowly, weakly, Jaina sat up and opened her eyes, everything in the room appearing to be a blur in her daze.

“You dare sleep in when a god needs you?” Tiny Lucien demanded, climbing up the pillows to poke her in the nose with his tiny staff. “My throne is in need of cleaning again!”

“Breakfast is late,” squawked the Guthix raptor. “Your sleeping appears to be greatly imbalanced!”

“Human pet,” TzRek-Jad chimed in, climbing onto her belly, “scratch my ears! I demand it!”

“Food!” cried Strawberry the troll, jumping on the bed. “Want foooood!”

“Alright, alright, coming, coming,” Jaina mumbled, sliding out of bed. She had to grab the side of the bed so as not to fall, and only very shakily managed to stand.

Why was she suddenly so tired? She’d been fine yesterday. She also hadn’t been on any particularly strenuous adventures, at least not since that dreadful Bandosian tournament—she still didn’t know how she’d managed to survive it, and didn’t wish to consider it too deeply; the less she dwelled on how she could never see Zanik again, the better. She didn’t think this was related to that anyway; her injuries had been physical, and she’d since recovered…

Jaina slid out of her nightdress and started to wrap her chest bindings in place, only to wince in pain and let go of the bandages. Puzzled, she started over, wrapping more loosely this time so as to be mindful of the odd soreness of her breasts—had she been sleeping wrong or something? Was she getting sick? Could any of this be magically induced?

Eventually she finished dressing and styling her hair, still feeling a bit dazed and sore, and slowly went downstairs to feed her pets and make herself something. Once the pets were all satisfied, she went about preparing her own meal in silence, still confused as to her state.

She was taking the redberry pie out of the oven when a fierce-looking, yet stately red-plumed hawk suddenly flew in the window. “On behalf of my lord Zamorak, I bring a missive for the World Guardian,” it squawked, flapping its wings impatiently.

Quickly Jaina set the pie down to cool and took the letter tied to the hawk’s leg. It was sealed with the symbol of Zamorak, and she frowned deeply as she opened it.

The letter was short, signed “Moia,” and simply said that Zamorak had need of her skills and that she must report to the Empyrean Citadel for further information. It seemed to Jaina a trap—who knew what they would do to her, or ask her to do? Did they honestly think she would ever agree to such a thing? She certainly wasn’t going to just walk into Sliske’s current favorite haunt anyway, let alone by herself, let alone for the purpose of helping Zamorakians with anything.

She quickly found a scrap of vellum and wrote a brief reply, stating in terms as polite as she could muster that she had no intention of aiding a god who had nearly destroyed her hometown. When she finished, she set to attaching it to the hawk’s leg. “Take this to your mistress.”

The hawk gave her a warning glare before it flew off, leaving her to ponder what it was the Zamorakians might want of her as she ate. Was it meant to be some kind of revenge for her not fighting for him at Lumbridge? If it was, why hadn’t the Saradominists tried anything similar?

When she had finished cleaning up after her meal, Jaina decided to continue working on the still-unfinished newest room in her home. She hadn’t considered the possibility of a home aquarium before, and had only first heard of it quite by accident on a visit to Catherby. It had certainly been expensive and time-consuming to get everything needed to set it up, and so far all she’d managed was getting the underwater portion made and the bathysphere installed. This would be the most interesting addition to her home yet.

She had just finished carefully mounting a ship’s figurehead to one wall when a frantic knocking came at her front door. She hurried to answer it, wondering what whoever was there might need so urgently.

Quickly she opened the door, and immediately recognized the familiar face. “Oh, good afternoon, Amalie,” she greeted, frowning. “Is something the matter?”

Amalie looked pale, and her voice was panicked when she spoke. “Have you seen Julia anywhere? I know she’s been visiting you frequently…”

Jaina shook her head. “I haven’t seen her lately, and she hasn’t come by for the past three days.” She bit her lip, her stomach knotting in worry. “Could she be with your husband?”

Amalie was frantically shaking her head. “If she had gone up to the Watchtower, her father or another watchman would have brought her home. She went out this morning to help Selena with the gardening, but she still hasn’t returned…”

A red-plumed hawk chose that moment to suddenly fly in, coming to a midair hover in front of Jaina; she realized it was the same hawk from before. “The lady Moia sends a missive for the World Guardian,” it squawked, glaring.

Sure enough, there was another letter attached to the bird’s leg, which Jaina very carefully took. Like the last letter, it was sealed with Zamorak’s symbol. Her eyes grew wide as she read it over:

_World Guardian,_

_My lord Zamorak has need of your unique skills specifically. I am aware that you may have reservations, but it would be most wise of you to reconsider lending your aid, particularly if you value the life of a child from your town. Meet me at the Empyrean Citadel within three days of this letter’s sending if you wish to see the child unharmed._

_~Moia_

The words seemed to blur as Jaina stared at them, a sudden chill suddenly flooding her body. Her hands were shaking as she finally looked up from the note, and it took a couple moments before she could even say anything.

“T-tell your mistress I’ll be right there,” she told the hawk, and looked back at Amalie worriedly. “I-I think I know what happened to Julia—one of Zamorak’s elite is holding her for ransom!”

“What?” Amalie gasped, her eyes scrolling to the slip of paper. “I-is that a ransom note you have there? Oh Saradomin, please tell me it isn’t true…”

“I’m afraid it is,” said Jaina severely, “and I’m the only one who can get her back. I promise you I’ll get her home safe and sound!”

“Please hurry!” Amalie practically begged, her eyes already filling with tears. “Who knows what those brutes will do to my daughter if you don’t…”

Jaina nodded and hurried to pack her bag, double-checking that she had all the essentials—runes, food for the road, emergency teletabs, a potion or two. Then she quickly teleported to the citadel, and as soon as it came into view, she hurried inside, frantically looking around the empty halls.

“So, our paths cross.” The voice was a woman’s, stern and cold. Jaina froze where she stood, a chill creeping down her spine, and slowly turned towards the sound, staff in hand.

A tall brunette, at once graceful and intimidating, stood alone in the hall, her small dark eyes glowing faintly pink. She had a red gem in her forehead and pale pink stripes lining her face, and her dark skin had a slightly grayish tint to it. The armor she wore was pink and gold, and made her appear as elegant and feminine as she did fearsome and dangerous.

Jaina knew who this must be, but she had never actually seen her before, only heard of her at Daemonheim and later from news of the Battle of Lumbridge. “I-I don’t believe we’ve met…”

“You might not know me,” Moia said, her gaze seeming more intense, “but I know you, Jaina Katarn of Lumbridge and Miscellania. You are, of course, familiar with my lord Zamorak; I led his forces at the Battle of Lumbridge. The defeat has been difficult to swallow—and that is further compounded by the fact that you failed to turn up to aid us.”

Jaina bit back the angry retort that had started to form on her lips and worriedly looked around the room. “Where is Julia?”

“You mean the child I spoke of?” Moia concentrated a moment and waved her hand, and a magical cage was teleported into the room. Little Julia was trapped inside it, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

Seeing Jaina, she looked up imploringly, sniffling. “Help me, Miss Jaina…”

Almost immediately Jaina had her staff in hand. “Let her go!”

“What happens to her hinges on the decision you make,” Moia stated bluntly. “If you agree to help my lord, I will release her to you. However, if you refuse again—” she glanced sidelong out a window— “well, it is a long way down from up here. Alternatively, I can also take people’s memories from them. I wouldn’t advise trying to fight me either… you or I might misfire a spell.”

Julia shivered in terror and started to sob loudly. “I-I don’t wanna fall… I wanna see Daddy and Mommy and Nana again!”

Glancing worriedly between the cage and Moia, Jaina could feel a rapidly rising lump in her throat. She should have expected this from a Zamorakian, but the thought that someone would truly resort to such harm to a child was too terrible to think about. Who knew what worse things she’d be asked to do in return, though?

“What exactly are you going to ask of me?”

Moia arched an eyebrow sharply. “That I cannot say until I can trust you. I need your word—will you help Zamorak recover from his darkest hour?”

Jaina didn’t know what she could possibly say. On the one hand, she could be unwittingly promising to kill people or something even more reprehensible—even to outright betray her allies! On the other, if she refused and Julia was killed, she would be responsible for a child’s death, and she wouldn’t put it past Moia to harm her anyway even if she did say yes.

“If I give my word, will you let Julia go unharmed and leave her alone from now on? You aren’t going to pull a fast one on me, I hope?”

“No. Do you think all followers of Zamorak are treacherous backstabbers? Do you think I lack integrity or loyalty?” Moia’s eyes flashed, and her tone was heatedly defensive. “He has given me purpose, something worthy to fight for and to strive for. I have already made it clear what her fate will be; now you must make your decision accordingly.”

Jaina’s mind raced—it wasn’t looking like she had much of a choice. She still didn’t entirely believe Moia was telling the truth, but she also suspected she would be getting impatient…

“Alright, you have my word! Now let Julia go!”

Nodding her approval, Moia dispelled the magical cage. “You brought teleport tablets, I presume? Send the child home so I may inform you further.”

“Miss Jaina!” Julia raced over to her and threw her arms around her leg. “I-I was so scared… I went outside the wall to pick dwellberries for a pie and then the scary wady came!” She sniffled and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “She used scary magic a-a-a-and put me in a cage a-a-a-a-and said she was gonna drop me if I didn’t stay quiet!”

“Shhh, it will be alright, I promise…” Jaina returned the hug, softly stroking Julia’s brown curls, and handed her a spare teletab. “Break this; it will take you to my home. Your mother is worried sick, and your father must be as well…”

“But what about you?” Julia asked. “Are you weally going to help the scary wady with Zam-o-man’s evil pwans?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jaina said quickly, hoping Moia wouldn’t change her mind. “You need to trust in me; I’ll find a way to do what’s right in the end. Please, Julia, go home.”

Julia looked sadly at the teletab and halfheartedly waved. “Please come back soon, Miss Jaina…”

She broke the teletab, and Moia’s eyes flashed again as she looked at Jaina. “Zamorak believes you will be instrumental in the coming days. If he believes it, so do I.”

“What is it I have to do exactly?” Jaina looked around the room, still worried, and another question immediately sprang to mind. “And why come here of all places?”

“I came here on a reconnaissance mission in search of information,” Moia replied matter-of-factly. “More precisely, the last known whereabouts of that snake Sliske. As you might have guessed, we plan to obtain the Stone of Jas, but it is not my place to reveal my lord’s plans.”

She handed Jaina a strange device. “Take this—it will allow you to contact me remotely, and can teleport you to our headquarters deep within Daemonheim. Prepare yourself as needed, but do not keep Zamorak waiting—I am the master of his spies, and I know about your army of trained house pets, your brother, and your lover. I doubt you want anything happening to them, yes?”

Jaina turned pale. “How did…” She trailed off, realizing she already knew the answer.

“So you understand.” Moia nodded stiffly, her eyes flashing once more. “I shall take my leave, then.”

With that she teleported off, and no sooner was she gone than Jaina suddenly found herself pulled into the Shadow Realm before she could even react. “Fancy seeing you here,” came a familiar smarmy voice, just as a tall figure emerged from the shadows. “I thought you never wanted to see me again?”

Jaina felt herself grow numb all over, and she scowled darkly at him to try to hide her fear. “I didn’t come here because I wanted to see you, Sliske. I was forced to come here, in fact…”

“Oh, how you wound me!” Sliske faked a couple loud sobs and laughed. “I missed you so dearly too, my friend!”

Jaina knew she should try and get straight to the point; the shorter it was before he got bored of talking and released her from the Shadow Realm, the better. “You were here the whole time, weren’t you? You heard everything?”

“But of course!” His usual, hideous grin was spreading across his face. “Ah, Moia… Such naivety to think she could come here unnoticed! Well, the cards are on the table, I know of Zamorak’s plan to steal the Stone of Jas, and you know I know.”

For a few moments Jaina could only stand there, trying not to look at his eyes. When his expression didn’t waver, she spoke up, feeling her stomach knotting. “You’re… you’re not going to just let him do it?”

“I’m not going to stop the operation in its tracks before it starts, if that’s what you’re asking,” he told her pointedly. “I would much prefer to wait until one of Zamorak’s agents finds it! My contest has slowed somewhat since Bandos’ death, and sometimes a Mahjarrat must provide his own entertainment! It’s time to spice things up—and, of course, that’s where you come in!”

The knot in her stomach tightened painfully, and the cold sweat forming on her brow must be giving her fear away. “So me being blackmailed into helping the god who might’ve destroyed my hometown try to steal a powerful artifact—which he has no business being anywhere near—is all part of a game to you? And you want me to play along with it?”

“Precisely,” Sliske said, his insufferable smug grin only widening. “The way I see it, you have three choices… one, you could infiltrate the group and sabotage the whole operation, waiting for the most deliciously dramatic moment to upstage Zamorak himself! Two, you could simply go along with the plan, with your presence alone having the desired effect. And three, well, you could—I suppose—side with Zamorak, but who in their right mind would want to do that, let alone you?”

He smirked broadly, looking at her expectantly. “So what’s your plan?”

She merely glared, not wanting to let on that she had no idea. “Like I would tell you…”

“Must you still be so hostile? And here I was sure you detested Zamorak more than little me…” Sliske made an exaggerated sigh and gave a disapproving shake of his head. “I will just have to keep a particularly close eye on you from here on out!”

He raised a hand as if to release her from the shadows, but hesitated suddenly. “Oh, that reminds me… before I let you go, there’s one small thing I need to do!”

Jaina turned pale and began to back away slowly, a sharp chill already surging through her. She didn’t think she wanted to know whatever it was he spoke of!

“Don’t worry, I don’t need to cast any spells at you; I just need to check to see if our little experiment was successful!” Smirking again, he beckoned. “Do come closer…”

Reluctantly she inched slightly closer, visibly shivering. “What did you do to me exactly?”

“This won’t take long at all… just relax; I don’t bite!” He placed his hands on her shoulders and closed his eyes, seemingly concentrating on something. She shuddered at his touch, and it took considerable willpower not to jerk away.

Suddenly Sliske drew back, looking surprised and confused. He stared at her like that a few moments before he spoke again. “It seems that our experiment was not just successful; it was even more successful than I could’ve expected!”

“What do you mean?” Jaina demanded, unable to keep her voice from shaking. “What happened?”

“You will know soon enough. In the meantime, Jaina, listen to me very closely.” Sliske’s tone was surprisingly severe and stern; it felt strange to hear him sound so serious. “When you are infiltrating Zamorak’s group, put as much distance between yourself and him as you can, and do not get too close! The same goes for the other Mahjarrat who might show up. And—this is particularly important—under absolutely no circumstances must you allow any of them to touch you!”

“Why would I even want any of them to touch me? Why are you telling me this?”

“Don’t forget that very important detail—no getting close, no letting them touch you,” Sliske reiterated. “Run along now—I’ll be watching, waiting.” With that he vanished, and Jaina found herself back in the physical realm once more.

Leave it to him not to give her any answers… well, she did have a gut feeling that she should take his warning seriously, and she couldn’t afford to gamble on not taking it seriously. She was going to have to be extremely careful in Zamorak’s presence anyway—watch where she stood, watch what she said, and both of those even moreso depending on which of his followers she’d run into. And, of course, she couldn’t let him get his hands on the Stone, considering what had happened the last time he’d had it.

She didn’t want to find out what would happen if she kept him waiting, though—she had better hurry. She didn’t want to spend any more time in the citadel than she had to anyway.

~***~

“Welcome, Jaina Katarn of Lumbridge and Miscellania,” the chaos god greeted, nodding in her direction. His face was difficult to read due to all his distractingly overgrown red horns, and his large wings and partially open robe were equally, if not more, distracting.

Jaina didn’t answer, nor did she kneel or even slightly incline her head. Being careful about what she would do and say did not necessarily mean she was willing to fake a display of respect.

Zamorak apparently was not angered by such a failure to kneel, as he simply proceeded to explain that they were deep below Daemonheim, as well as point out Moia and Bilrach beside him and praise them for their loyalty. The latter would have been a major reason Jaina was standing as far from the chaos god’s throne as she reasonably could even without Sliske’s warning; given the atrocities that had taken place in the depths of Daemonheim, she didn’t want to get any closer to the man responsible than she had to.

Zamorak’s gaze fell squarely upon her. “I trust you are aware of our pursuit?”

She nodded stiffly. “Yes, to steal the Stone of Jas.”

“You would do well to choose your words more carefully,” Zamorak said flatly, though at least he didn’t sound angry. “The Stone was stolen from me, and I intend to reclaim it.”

Jaina resisted the urge to ask if he wanted it in order to destroy the rest of the continent and turn it into more wilderness. “How do you plan to find it?”

“Many of those loyal to me are masters of subterfuge and deception,” Zamorak pointed out. “I have agents everywhere, even in the Shadow Realm. It will be found, and the time draws near—we must assemble the core of my legions.”

“What exactly do I have to do?” Maybe this time she would actually get an answer.

“Your task is simple—travel around Gielinor in search of my most powerful, cunning followers.”

She quickly stifled a sigh of relief. At least she wasn’t going to have to kill anyone, or go against her allies—on the other hand, she was really hoping Zamorak would still be angry at his Mahjarrat followers, so she wouldn’t have to go near them…

“Firstly, four Mahjarrat—Zemouregal, Enakhra, Hazeel, and Khazard—who have much to prove in their absence from the battle against Saradomin.”

Her heart practically crashed to the floor. Of course it was just her luck that she’d have to go find them—and all but one of them would likely want to kill her on sight, too. This really wasn’t her day…

“Also Daquarius, who leads my Kinshra armies and upholds my teachings—”

Well, he wasn’t so bad; he at least had a sense of honor, cared for his men, and wasn’t treacherous…

“—and Nomad, a powerful battlemage who has sought to overthrow traitors in my absence. As my left hand, Moia will be leading the party.”

Wait, Nomad wasn’t dead? But she had… either way, he wasn’t much better than the Mahjarrat, though at least she wouldn’t have to worry as much about where she was standing.

“Moia will inform you of where to find each of them,” Zamorak stated, motioning to the pink-clad general. “Remember that I have agents everywhere, so I would greatly advise you not to stray from your path until your task is complete.”

Jaina nodded once more, trying to hide her unease. “I guess I’d best get on with it, then…”

~***~

As the hot desert sun shone on her back, Jaina was glad she’d briefly stopped over in Nardah to buy several choc-ices for the trip to Uzer. They always did help greatly with venturing through the desert, and she needed sweets anyway to help take her mind off things for a moment or two.

She was halfway finished with her search, and already hating herself for what she’d done. She’d started with Lord Daquarius, which had gone smoothly and hadn’t been bad at all, but she’d almost immediately regretted not letting Death finish dealing with Nomad. That paled in comparison to her visit with Hazeel, though—letting that dangerous werewolf go free was likely far worse than having revived Hazeel in the first place! Even looking at him had made her feel unsettled and uneasy, and she dreaded to think about what deaths she would now be indirectly responsible for.

As she was finishing up her ice cream, she smelled the stench of General Khazard moments before she saw him and couldn’t help but cringe. She had most certainly not missed his oh-so-delightful odor, and the desert heat only made it worse.

Khazard turned, nearly stumbling over a ruined wall in surprise as he spotted her. “You… what are you doing here?”

Jaina leaned over another wall to look over at him, grateful for the breeze that was sweeping through. “Believe it or not, I was sent to look for you.”

Khazard raised an eyeridge. “You can’t have found me by chance… which means… Moia sent you?”

She nodded. “She told me you were looking for information about your father.”

“Blasted half-breed! Can’t a Mahjarrat do anything in privacy anymore?” Khazard grumbled and kicked at the sand. “Bad enough you can’t even sense her coming until she comes close enough…”

“You mean you can’t sense her life-force from wherever and locate her that way? But—”

“Indeed not, and it’s most annoying!” He glanced up at her again, raising his other eyeridge. “What were you sent here for anyway? Does Moia want me to report to her again already?”

Jaina shook her head. “I only came to tell you that Zamorak requests your presence at Daemonheim, and it’s best not to keep him waiting.”

“Very well,” said Khazard, “but before I can leave, I need your help checking the Shadow Realm—I have reason to believe my mother could manipulate it too, and if she fought here, perhaps my father did too. I’d search the Shadow Realm myself, but thanks to that blasted snake Sliske’s experiments, I haven’t been able to enter it.” He kicked at the sand again and growled something under his breath. “Though I can, at least, manipulate the shadows enough to send you in.”

Jaina wrung her hands, shifting uncertainly in place. “Will I be able to get out again afterward?”

“Of course you will, you fool; do you think I’m incompetent?” Khazard scowled and beckoned to her impatiently. “Now get over here so I can send you in!”

Taking a deep breath, Jaina tentatively approached him, skirting around towards the underground stairs before she could get within two arm’s reaches of him. Standing on the topmost stair, she desperately hoped that he would merely wave a hand to send her into the shadows and not try to touch her.

“What are you standing all the way over there for?” Khazard demanded, beckoning more vigorously. “I said get over here! How am I supposed to do anything if I can’t reach you?”

Jaina wrung her hands. “You don’t usually need to be right next to someone to cast magic…”

Khazard just scowled more darkly. “I haven’t got time for you to make excuses! I don’t care how ugly you find me; just do what I tell you! Lousy garish-haired human…”

Grumbling incomprehensibly, he stormed up to her and waved his hands, and she was in the Shadow Realm again. She quickly turned away from him and hurried down the stairs into the ruins, glad to temporarily escape both his presence and his smell.

As she was looking around the mostly empty chambers, a flash of blue suddenly caught her eye. She turned towards it and immediately caught sight of what had once been a stately Mahjarrat woman curled up on the floor. The body seemed perfectly preserved—it was skeletal, but the bright turquoise robe showed no signs of wear or tear save for a large bloodstain in the stomach region that somehow hadn’t turned completely brown yet.

This was most likely Palkeera, Jaina realized, though there was a chance it could be someone else… Carefully she searched the corpse for anything of interest, and managed to find a blood-soaked journal tucked underneath one of the arms. She opened the cover carefully, wondering what she might find out.

Most of the journal pages that weren’t covered in blood and illegible were written in Infernal, the handwriting flowing and elegant. Jaina only managed to make out anything on the last couple pages—it seemed Palkeera had indeed fought here alongside Thammaron, and retreated to the Shadow Realm when mortally wounded. She had almost certainly died before finishing the entry, though she had managed to write down that giving birth to Khazard had greatly drained her energies, and that she’d wanted him to know his father.

Why would Palkeera have insisted on fighting in such a condition, at a time when her baby had needed her most? Would her fellow Zamorakians have truly been so cruel as to sacrifice a new mother for being unable to fight at the Ritual? And, well, it was hard to feel sorry for any of them, knowing what all of them had done to the Zarosians during the God Wars…

Well, there was no point getting lost in thought in the Shadow Realm. Carefully closing the journal, Jaina made her way back up the stairs—and as she made it to the top, Khazard immediately tried to grab her arm as he pulled her back into the physical realm. She cried out in alarm and nearly dropped the journal as she ducked out of the way, falling backwards onto the sand.

“What is with you today?” Khazard snapped, staring at her in confusion. “I don’t think you’re groveling before me; you never have before, and you don’t seem to even fear me—do you fear that the touch of a Mahjarrat will burn your fragile flesh or something?”

Jaina was unable to stifle a snorting laugh at how ridiculous—and ironic—that comment was, and had to struggle to stop laughing as she stood up and brushed the sand off her skirt. “This was all I could find,” she finally said, and quickly handed him the journal before backing away slowly.

Khazard’s eyes widened as he looked over the journal, and he stared at it for a long moment. “My—my mother…” he whispered at last, sounding rather choked up. “S-she died protecting Thammaron… a worthy death, but it was because of me… She was weak because of me…”

Jaina wondered if he would actually cry, but then he suddenly gasped. “It couldn’t mean… him? Argh! Why does it end there? I must know more…”

He shook his head, tucking the journal into an unseen pocket. “At least I know she died a warrior, fighting for the glory of Zamorak. I will go to him now—he must be anxious to see me.”

With that he teleported off, and Jaina realized she still felt shaken from that close call. Well, things could have been worse—and what was coming next was what she had been dreading the most.

~***~

The zombie guards in the basement were no trouble at all; a couple quick Ice Barrages dispatched them easily before any of them could reach her. It was what awaited her just up the ladder that was going to be the worst part of her task yet.

She could hear an argument of some kind going on up above, and listened carefully now that the zombies were gone. If those two were in the middle of a spat, they’d be all the more likely to be angry enough to try killing her on sight.

“Really, Enakhra, you should realize the simple facts by now.” The voice was Zemouregal’s. “He’s not interested! He never was!”

“What are you—wait, what? Because I am the only remaining female Mahjarrat, I must be in love with whom I revere?” Enakhra’s harsh voice sounded half furious, half defensive, and it was impossible to tell if she was actually earnest.

“You must admit that your behavior over the past few centuries has made you seem quite smitten,” Zemouregal pointed out.

“No, you numbskull,” Enakhra shot back, and gave an annoyed sigh. “Ascending to godhood is no small feat, and I am indeed in awe of him. But in love? Most certainly not!”

As… enticing as the prospect of hearing them argue about this matter for some time sounded, Jaina figured she might as well go and get this over with as soon as she could. Carefully she ascended the ladder to the floor above, staff still in hand.

Immediately Enakhra straightened up, both eyeridges sharply raised. “What do we have here?”

“If it isn’t Jaina,” Zemouregal remarked. “Trespassing now, are we?”

Jaina at least knew what the best approach would be—get straight to the point, and not say any more than she had to. “Zamorak sends me,” she said quickly, skeptical that either of them would believe her. “He requests both your presences.”

“Zamorak sent you himself?” Enakhra stared at her incredulously. “You, of all people? Was he out of loyal messengers today?”

“I’m not surprised,” Zemouregal said, rolling his eyes. “Begging for help from anyone in his desperation.”

“Still your tongue, Zemouregal,” Enakhra snapped, glaring darkly at him. “It is not wise to speak ill of our master.”

“It’s as I was saying earlier—you’ve changed your tune,” Zemouregal said insistently. “You do remember how little he appreciated our efforts to turn the tide of battle? How he did not even acknowledge us at the Empyrean Citadel? He threatened to denounce us!”

“Your skull is too thick for your own good,” Enakhra said bluntly, rolling her eyes at him before glancing over at Jaina again. “For what reason does Zamorak request our presence? For your own sake, you had better not be lying.”

“The Stone of Jas,” Jaina replied flatly, not meeting either of their gazes. “He needs your help to get it.”

Zemouregal immediately perked up. “Has he discovered its location?”

“I-I don’t know,” she answered, a little shakily. It was true; he might have figured out where it was at some point since she had left his presence.

Enakhra nodded, looking a little bit less doubtful. “It was wise of him not to tell you where it is.”

“He has indeed made a wise choice—to come to me.” Zemouregal drew himself up proudly. “I should be spearheading this operation!”

“Now who’s changed their tune?” Sighing deeply, Enakhra shook her head. “Let us not keep him waiting.”

She teleported, and Zemouregal shot Jaina a warning glance. She didn’t even need to wait to be told to leave or else—she was already reaching for a teletab, and she wouldn’t be coming back to this fort anytime soon if she could help it.

~***~

She was barely listening as Zamorak addressed his followers, and hardly even looked at the ghostly figure of Viggora as he appeared and explained where the Stone was. Her mind swirled with a storm of worry—would any of the Mahjarrat move closer to her? Would Zamorak notice how far behind his followers she was standing and yell at her to come closer? Would she inadvertently brush against one of them? How long would it be before someone got randomly annoyed with looking at her hair and tried to kill her? How she desperately wished to be anywhere but here!

“Jaina.” Zamorak’s voice was strong and commanding, and his expectant gaze burned through her. “You are the most valuable member of this operation—“

“Are you serious?” Zemouregal interrupted suddenly. “Why do we need her? She’s very clearly not loyal, and I’m guessing you forced her into this for whatever ridiculous reason. Can’t you see she’s going to betray us the first chance she gets? Or, at least, she’s going to run back to those blind fools and tell them all about how mean old Zamorak made her work with traitors…”

“Hold your tongue, you impatient fool,” Enakhra snapped. “It is not your place to question Zamorak, and certainly not by such a rude interruption. Strange as it may seem, our lord surely has his reasons—and besides, we can keep her in line!”

“You would suggest that we waste time and effort on babysitting a garish-haired human?” Zemouregal retorted. “For all we know, she’s already told Sliske everything! What possible reason even is there to keep her around?”

“SILENCE!” boomed Zamorak, his dark glare positively bone-chilling. “I said you will do as I command, and there will be no further interruptions or questioning of my decisions! Understand?”

He glanced back at Jaina, still looking quite stern. “As I was saying, your resistance to divine energy is imperative, misguided loyalties or otherwise. I’m sure by this point you know better than to try anything—in fact I pray you do, because I am not going to spend further efforts on coercion.”

Jaina wasn’t quite sure what to make of that, but it did sound remarkably like a threat. Whatever he was implying, she definitely didn’t want to think about what it might be.

“Jerrod, you possess both cunning and agility—you and Jaina will infiltrate the outer chambers, and dispatch the guards.”

Jaina felt herself grow numb all over once more, and she didn’t hear the rest of Zamorak’s address to his followers. The werewolf might not have been part of Sliske’s warning, but she didn’t want to be anywhere near him either—he may have claimed he didn’t eat his associates, but she still didn’t trust that he wouldn’t turn on her if she got so much as a papercut.

Would Zamorak consider it an act against him if she were to discreetly dispatch Jerrod once they were past the guards? There was no reason she couldn’t still meekly go along with the plan afterward—and the way Lord Daquarius was glaring at the werewolf seemed to indicate that he wanted him dead, too. If Jerrod was truly as violence-prone as Hazeel had said, she’d be doing the world a favor instead of indirectly causing people’s deaths.

“If it would please you, my lord,” Moia spoke up, stepping forward, “I believe we should move now.”

Zamorak nodded in agreement. “Yes, the moment is here. Do not fail me.”

Moia nodded and beckoned to the group. “You know where we’ll meet—south of the Barrows, and into the cave there.”

As Jaina readied her teleport spell, she could’ve sworn she saw Bilrach squinting at her oddly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have another fic! Not happy with the title though, even though it does at least have a dual meaning... This one's largely centered around DAT, but I don't want it to be entirely retreading quest ground--some things need to be different and interesting! And, well, there is already one very clear difference... I don't think I need to explain what's going on or what Sliske's warning is about, but I still advise reading the previous installments. I'm a little disappointed in how most of this turned out, if only because a lot of it's covering canon ground... but at least I'll get to do something very, very different in the next part!
> 
> In case any Zammy fans in the audience have a bone to pick with me, feel free to pick away. I want to avoid character bashing and write everyone as accurately as I can, you know? Except for Jerrod. He's the only character in the quest that I outright loathe (well, except for Bilrach anyway), and I wasn't able to hide that at all. If you know anything about the tie-in novels, you know why I hate him.  It makes sense for the Zamorakians to resort to any measures necessary to get the World Guardian's aid, since her powers are necessary for the heist and Zamorak can't afford for her to refuse. 
> 
> Do bear in mind that Jaina is a character, and her views are not necessarily mine. Even if not for her anger about the Battle of Lumbridge, she hasn't had any kind of perception of Zamorak in a positive light--someone who was raised Guthixian, had entirely Saradominist neighbors, and converted to Zaros eventually would not disbelieve the common perception of Zamorak as evil and treacherous.
> 
> Now to cross my fingers and hope I haven't angered anyone...


	2. Chapter 2

Never had Jaina imagined that it would ever be a relief to see Sliske, and it felt strange, wrong, even for only a part of her to feel that way. The rest of her was fearful as ever—half because of the worry that he might actually let Zamorak get the Stone, and half because, well, this was Sliske after all.

She was standing in the vault doorway, a ways behind the group of Zamorakians, who were, of course, in disbelief that Sliske had caught them. No one had seemed to notice or care that she was trying to keep her distance from them, at least so far; on the other hand, she hadn’t gotten a chance to deal with Jerrod.

“I think it’s time for you to meet the other guests!” Smirking, Sliske stepped back slightly, and eight shadowy apparitions suddenly swirled into being, each a likeness of one of the Zamorakians. Jaina didn’t see a shadow copy of herself, though—was Sliske perhaps intending something a little different for her? And what would that difference even be?

The Zamorakians were staring in shock as Sliske proudly introduced a few of the apparitions. Most of them were glaring darkly, and Jerrod was snarling viciously, but Lord Daquarius and even Hazeel and Khazard looked fearful—well, in Hazeel’s case, he looked merely wary.

“Surely they are nothing but apparitions,” quavered Khazard. “Constructs of shadow…”

“Indeed,” Nomad added. “A nice trick, but nothing more, conjurer.”

“Oh, but they are so much more,” Sliske insisted. “You will find them to be quite formidable opponents!”

“Enough,” Moia snapped, shifting into an aggressive stance. “Prepare yourselves, disciples of chaos!”

The group rushed forward to engage their shadowy counterparts, except for Khazard, who was looking around frantically. “Where’s that blasted human when we need her most?” he exclaimed, sounding positively panicked.

As soon as he spotted Jaina, he beckoned vigorously. “What are you doing all the way over there? Get over here so I can send you into the Shadow Realm—hurry!”

Reluctantly Jaina did so, hoping she wouldn’t come too close, and before she could blink she was alone in the Shadow Realm, the vast cavernous vault dark and empty except for the Stone of Jas sitting quietly on a pedestal before her.

She stood there numbly, staring at the Stone, the silence in the chamber seeming deafening. She couldn’t bring the Stone out, not if that meant giving it to Zamorak… and whatever Sliske was or wasn’t going to do, she was at his mercy…

As if on cue, she could hear Sliske’s uproarious laughter suddenly echo throughout the vault, and a shudder surged up her spine. “I’ve been saving the ace up my sleeve for you, Jaina,” she heard him say. “Welcome to your nightmares!”

A shadowy figure took shape before her eyes, sprouting arms, legs, and flowing long hair, and soon a fully formed apparition was standing there. Like the other apparitions, this one’s face was covered by one of Sliske’s hideous masks, but unlike the other ones, it wasn’t her exact mirror image. Instead it wore a much more revealing, skintight outfit, its eyes seemed to glow red through the mask, and its long, shadowy tendrils of hair were worn loose and flowed freely.

The shadow laughed—it even had her voice—and a staff appeared in its—her?—hand. The staff greatly resembled Jaina’s, except that it had a white wisp of smoke swirling around it, and the upper part of it was slightly bent in the middle and had a glowing orange heart set in it, still beating and bleeding what seemed to be lava.

The shadow deftly twirled the staff in one hand. “I’ve been expecting you!”

The sound of her own voice coming from that… shadow thing was positively unnerving, and Jaina already had her own staff at the ready. This wouldn’t be easy, but she had to focus and not let her fear overcome her…

“Come a little closer!” Jumping onto the platform with the Stone as though lighter than air, the shadow beckoned, and Jaina felt herself being dragged towards the Stone. “Don’t be so afraid!”

Straining to pull free from the magical drag, Jaina barely managed to wrench herself loose and nearly stumbled forward. Quickly she regained her balance, using her staff for support, and took a deep breath.

“Take this! Ice Barrage!”

She wasn’t sure if trying to encase a construct of shadow in ice would work, and so focused on forming the spell into sharp icicles and rapidly firing them at her shadow counterpart. The shadow began dodging, giggling as she stepped out of the way and twirled elegantly around her staff as if to show off.

While quite a few of the icicle projectiles did hit their mark, the shadow seemed unfazed, and merely continued to evade the spells in the most brazen ways she could muster. Occasionally, she would beckon, starting a magical drag again, and Jaina had to struggle to pull free from it.

She had fallen to the floor, barely escaping the latest magical drag, when the shadow sighed and shook her head. “This isn’t very interesting… I do believe it’s high time to fix that!”

Before Jaina could even get up, the shadow spun around her staff as if dancing, hair streaming behind her, and the room suddenly changed around them. The vault disappeared, now seeming to be covered in snow and ice, and there seemed to be a steep icy path up ahead. Jaina shivered, realizing the sight was familiar, and pulled her overcoat tighter around her as she stood.

“So predictable,” the shadow remarked, slowly and purposefully coming closer. “A master of many spells, and yet overreliant on a single spell, a single tactic—encase enemy in ice, run away, rinse, repeat. Well, ice user, perhaps it’s fitting you get a taste of your own medicine?”

She laughed, causing Jaina to cringe—how unsettling it was to hear Sliske’s sort of sadistic laughter in her own voice!—and raised her staff. “Sallamakar ro!”

Almost immediately Jaina found herself encased in ice from the shoulders down, and as she began to desperately struggle as best she could, the shadow did that horrible laugh again. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it? You won’t reach your beloved hero this time, though!”

Jaina’s mind raced as she managed to wrench her arm and her staff free. How did Sliske even know about that? Had he been stalking her even then? He knew about the ring of visibility—had he created it, ensured it fell into her possession?

She felt numb from the cold, but she couldn’t relent. As she continued to push her way through the ice, she used the sharp point of her staff to crack through its weak points, occasionally casting Blood Barrage at the shadow. The spell managed to warm her slightly each time she cast it, and her nearly frostbitten hands already felt much better.

Finally she managed to break free of the last of the ice and quickly turned on her counterpart, this time using Blood Barrage. It was only after ten casts of the spell in rapid succession that she noticed the shadow wasn’t trying to re-freeze her, or even retaliating at all.

Once more the shadow laughed. “So you do remember that you know different magic… I could easily encase you again, but that would be a bit dull and repetitive, don’t you think? This was just a warm-up!”

Twirling around her staff again, she vanished in a flurry of shadows, her laughter echoing throughout the chamber as the scenery changed once more. Now Jaina found herself in the woods west of Lumbridge, right beside a crackling, spasming greenish portal.

Her stomach clenched at the sight, and she quickly scrambled to back away from the portal, but she didn’t get very far before it exploded in a blinding flash. She stumbled backwards and fell to the floor as everything went dark.

When she came to, the darkness seemed to part before her, and she found herself sitting in the middle of the horrible crater that once had been the woodlands, bright crystals glowing everywhere. She could still hear the laughter echoing, but then the sound of her voice deepened until it had become Zamorak’s, and his shadow suddenly loomed over her.

Jaina scrambled to get up, but the shadows were swirling rapidly around her, taking the shapes of demons, hellhounds, dark mages, and other Zamorakian warriors. Others just as suddenly became icyenes, great winged lion-like beasts, wizards, knights of Saradomin—and then Saradomin himself was looming over her as well. The gods were blasting powerful beams at each other, but their gazes were fixed squarely on her.

The sounds of agonized screams and wails suddenly filled the air, and Jaina’s eyes darted around to see where they might be coming from. She got her answer fairly quickly when she saw plumes of smoke coming from the direction of the town.

A gasp escaped her throat and she took off running towards the castle, staff in hand. No sooner had she gone a few paces than all of the shadowy warriors immediately turned to rush after her, ignoring both the glowing crystals and each other. “Fight for us, World Guardian,” some of them called out. “We need your strength!”

“No! Stay away!” Jaina whirled around, flinging Ice Barrages at the oncoming warriors. She managed to knock some of the flying ones out of the sky and entrap some of the ground forces, but it wasn’t enough; there were far too many to keep at bay.

She had to keep running, she realized, get there before they did. And run she did, only occasionally turning around to fling more ice at the shadowy hordes as they continued to relentlessly pursue her.

“It is through overcoming adversity that you grow stronger,” Zamorak’s voice called out. “Fight for me, and become more powerful than you could ever imagine!”

“I do what is necessary to protect my people,” Saradomin’s voice added. “You have defied me for the last time—I shall not be denied!”

“No!” Jaina desperately fired two more icy blasts at the oncoming warriors. “I-I don’t want this… Stay away from me!”

The screaming grew louder as she rushed into the castle courtyard, and she looked around frantically. The nearby houses were on fire, the church windows were shattered, and the shadowy figures of the townsfolk ran through the streets, desperately gunning for the castle. Many already hadn’t made it—and she recognized several of the dead! Bob the axe merchant, old man Roddeck, Victoria, Lozar—again, Tutor Mikasi… even Father and Mother…

Fighting back tears, Jaina hurried to help the fleeing townsfolk get into the castle, but the screams continued all around her, and there seemed to be no end to the refugees. The skies darkened above her as the warriors closed in, descending like a thick black cloud—and surrounding the castle on all sides!

Before she could do anything, she was swept along through the sea of shadowy townsfolk and into the castle—but the interior wasn’t that of Lumbridge Castle. Rather, the vast corridor was lined with purple banners bearing the symbol of Zaros and tapestries depicting various Mahjarrat, some of whom she didn’t recognize. Most of the tapestries seemed to be either of Sliske or a graceful female Mahjarrat sporting an odd two-tailed black hat. The fleeing people had changed as well; they no longer resembled the townsfolk of Lumbridge. Instead they wore flowing robes, held together by large pins rather than ties or buttons, and simple sandals.

The screaming had gotten louder, and worse; there seemed to be a lot more voices now. She could make out the anxious sobs of small children, the wailing of babies… and it all seemed to be coming from somewhere outside!

She rushed through the halls, eventually coming out into a large courtyard. Half the area was on fire thanks to braziers that had been knocked over, and the air was full of smoke from the fires. The shadowy warriors from before were everywhere, but this time they were pursuing the fleeing civilians, who were desperately trying to gather up their families and get to safety. In the midst of the chaos stood a shadowy K’ril Tsutsaroth and Commander Zilyana, both as ferocious-looking as always, except they seemed to be giving orders together rather than trying to kill each other.

A loud, choked sob came from nearby, and Jaina spotted two small children and a baby trapped under a fallen wooden beam, behind a rapidly spreading wall of flame. She was over there in a heartbeat, swiftly using Ice Barrage to put the flames out before grabbing all three children. “Hang on!”

As she carried them safely inside, the baby seemed to cling to her the tightest. Suddenly she felt a tug on her sleeve, and the eldest child sniffled and sobbed loudly. “Wait!” she cried, pointing outside. “Mommy and Daddy… they’re still out there!”

Jaina nodded, quickly setting them all down. “Shhh—I’ll help! Just run!”

The baby’s crying grew louder as she turned around and raced back outside. The fires had spread further, and she could barely make out a couple tightly holding onto each other as they fled from the icyene squad pursuing them.

Smoke filled her eyes and made her choke as she raced towards the couple, trying to put out the flames with Ice Barrage as best she could. It barely lasted at all, though—each time she put out a fire, it soon resurged, seemingly larger and hotter than before.

Seeing the icyenes swoop in, Jaina whirled on them, firing sharp icicles at their wings. As they plummeted down into the flames, the couple spotted her and ran to her, a faint hope shining in their eyes despite them being made of shadows. Quickly she stretched out her hand to the mother, but a sudden burst of flame crackled and roared to life, spreading everywhere and swallowing up everything, and her world went dark once more.

When she came to, she found herself strangely not burned or even singed, but the fortress she’d been in was no longer standing; there were only its ruins—and the Wilderness—all around her. The screaming had faded, but the deathly silence that had replaced it felt chilling, and just as deafening.

A small cry suddenly broke the silence, and Jaina looked around to try to find its source. It sounded like a baby crying! Was it a ghost? Was it the ghost of the baby she’d tried to save? Had someone actually abandoned a baby in the Wilderness?

Hurriedly she searched every corner of the ruins, dreading what she might find, but there was no sign of the source of the crying. She wasn’t even sure what direction it was coming from, only that it sounded very close.

She had frantically run in circles around the ruins a few times, still not finding anything that was causing the crying, when suddenly she heard something zip past her ear. Tensing up, she looked around, and this time she did find something—a crossbow bolt, embedded in the ground near her feet.

A cold sweat overcame her as she picked up the bolt—that meant there was an archer nearby, and she was the target!—and then her stomach clenched tightly at the sight of it. Ordinary crossbow bolts were bad enough, but this… This was a special bolt, fletched from the wood of the bloodwood tree—a bolt specially designed to kill mages.

Dropping the bolt, she looked up, and there was indeed a shadowy archer there, two crystal-adorned crossbows in hand—aimed directly at her heart!

She froze in place, her eyes wide and her breathing ragged, and stared numbly at the archer. What could she possibly do now?

The archer reloaded his main-hand crossbow and aimed at her once more. “Your cowardly teleportation tactic won’t save you now.”

Seven more shadowy archers suddenly appeared, encircling her, each identical to the first and armed with two powerful-looking crystal-adorned crossbows. They likely had mage-killer bolts too—and all of them were taking aim at her as well!

The sound of the baby’s crying grew louder, and Jaina was looking around in panic. There seemed to be no way out of this, nothing she could do… Desperately she formed an ice shield around herself, but Zaros only knew how long that would hold…

She sank to her knees and let out a sharp, agonized wail, her eyes filling with tears. Her vision blurred as a river of tears gushed forth, and she fell to the ground and shakily curled up in a ball, sobbing quietly.

“Really, World Guardian, that’s no way for a hero to behave!”

Jaina opened her eyes, her cheeks tear-stained and her pounding headache causing her to groan. She noticed she was back in the vault, and she could see Sliske standing over her with that smug grin of his.

She sat bolt upright, inching back and struggling to scramble to her feet. “Get away from me!”

“Hahaha! Oh, you’re so adorable when you’re frightened!” Smirking broadly, Sliske reached over to help Jaina up. “I do hope you conduct yourself a bit more sensibly when faced with real danger.”

She jerked away from him in revulsion. “What did you do to me?”

“That depends on what you’re referring to,” he remarked. “It should be obvious that I led you through a series of illusions just now! It’s amazing what one can do with the shadows if one tries! If, however, you refer to our little experiment, you have all the clues to figure that one out at your disposal. I trust you’re intelligent enough to put the pieces together all on your own!”

He motioned to the Stone of Jas. “You may have made it through your nightmare, but you still need to face Zamorak! Go ahead, touch the Stone!”

Jaina didn’t really want to touch the Stone again, given what tended to happen, but Sliske was looking expectantly at her, and he’d never let her go free if she didn’t. Hanging her head in defeat, she approached the Stone and lightly placed her hand on its smooth surface.

As her hand brushed the surface of the Stone, a vision of the past suddenly filled her mind, just as before—this time she saw Zamorak, cornered with the Stone as the other gods surrounded him. They urged him to give up, to surrender, but of course he wouldn’t… instead he seized the Stone in a fit of rage, and before she could even react in horror at the realization of what she was witnessing, the memory faded in a blinding flash of white.

A sudden rush of white-hot energy flowing through her veins woke Jaina, and she felt renewed, rejuvenated, as she opened her eyes. She was in the physical realm once more, looking on as the traitors struggled helplessly against their shadow counterparts.

Her fingers curled tightly around her staff, and she felt the energy that filled her crackling all around her. That slippery bastard had made her feel so weak, helpless… but she knew now she was far from either. She was power. She was strength. She was courage, she was swiftness, she was determination… She was unstoppable.

She would make them all pay. She would cover this chamber in ice, and every single miserable occupant of the place along with it!

Her gaze locked onto her first unfortunate victim, and she practically sailed off the platform, staff in hand. “Hear me, oh Great Lord!” she shouted in Infernal, her voice echoing off the chamber walls. “Overwhelm my enemy with torment!”

Large, sharp icicles sprang up all along the floor, spearing Jerrod’s shadow counterpart in all directions until it vanished into nothingness. A few of the icicles “accidentally” hit the real Jerrod as well, skewering him through the thigh and jaw, and the werewolf collapsed, howling in agony.

Satisfied at the sound, Jaina continued on her warpath, sending flurries of ice shards flying through the air and summoning larger ones from the ground as she went, and soon a ring of icicles completely encircled the platform with the Stone. The shadow constructs unlucky enough to be in her line of sight vanished with unearthly screams as their forms were rapidly riddled with sharp icicles, and she took aim at the real Zamorakians as well as she spotted them, trying to encase their legs so she could hit them more easily. She could feel the power of the curse she’d uttered working, strengthening her with each spell that struck true…

“What is she doing?” she heard Lord Daquarius exclaim in a panicked tone.

“Stop!” Khazard yelled, teleporting out of the way of an Ice Barrage that would have entrapped him. “Attack the shadows, not me!”

Zemouregal uttered a harsh growl. “I told you she would betray us!”

“It’s the Stone’s power,” Moia called out. “She’s blindly drunk on it… she can’t distinguish us from the constructs! Everyone, out of the way!”

They truly were fools, Jaina knew. She was well aware which of them were the real traitors and which were the constructs, and she had the power to stand up to all of them! The murdered faithful would be avenged in the name of Zaros!

“Wait,” she heard Hazeel say. “What is that mage doing?”

And then she spotted Nomad, charging headlong for the Stone. It seemed she’d have to deal with him again, and this time it would not be such a long or difficult fight! He would be back in Death’s hands by the time she was through with him.

Glaring darkly, Nomad flung his spear at her. She snatched it easily and threw it back, and it struck him square in the shoulder, causing him to stumble back and grunt in pain.

“Wretched ‘World Guardian!’” he snarled, his eyes narrowing even further. “You cleared a path to the Stone for me, and now you interfere with my ambitions once again! Why would you choose to help Zamorak? He is weak, cowering in his hideout!”

He spun around to face the rest of the group, who had gathered together (save the wounded Jerrod) once more. “And you! Look at you, his loyal followers! Cowering in a corner when a mere slip of a girl turns on you! When Sliske takes his vengeance, will Zamorak come to your aid? No, he hides in the depths of Daemonheim where he thinks he is beyond reach! No one will help you now!”

Zamorak chose that moment to teleport in, pushing Nomad to the ground. A sudden spell of dizziness overcame Jaina, and she didn’t see what happened to Nomad after that—but when she had regained her bearings, she could feel the power of the Stone slowly fading from her body… but not entirely. Something in the pit of her stomach seemed to be drawing upon the remaining power, pulling it in rather than out… what was going on?

Well, she noticed that Sliske had reappeared nearby when she wasn’t looking, and Zamorak now stood facing him in order to confront him. The chaos god looked absolutely furious at the sight of him, and for once she could agree with him on something.

“Do not waste my time with talk of petty titles and fussy hierarchies,” Zamorak snapped. “They led us only to weakness and stagnation.”

“A fact of which I am well aware,” Sliske pointed out. “Tell me, Zamorak—do you really think the Praetorian Prefect was not aware of your plot to overthrow Zaros?”

Jaina stood bolt upright. “What?”

“You will not manipulate me with your lies, Sliske,” Zamorak hissed, not seeming to have heard her.

“I have no reason to lie about this,” Sliske said bluntly. “The old society was oh so boring… everyone being watched, afraid to put a foot out of line. Your development of this ‘chaos’ ideology was a breath of fresh air.”

Jaina couldn’t hold her tongue anymore. “You… you sick bastard!” she snarled. “Do you have any idea how much knowledge was lost in the God Wars? How many innocent lives were taken just to make sure Zaros would be forgotten? And it didn’t even have to be that way… You are just as horrible and traitorous as everyone else here!”

“You shouldn’t get so riled up about things you know so little about, Jaina,” Sliske chided, shaking his head. “The empire was hardly the place of greatness and wonder you might have been led to believe… I’m quite sure you wouldn’t want to live there! Besides, if I had taken action, much that you take for granted might not now exist! Your beloved hometown most certainly wouldn’t be, and perhaps humans might not have discovered runecrafting… even you might not even be here now!”

“I know enough to have come to a reasonable understanding of what happened,” she shot back, trying to hold back her furious tears. “I promise you, the Empty Lord will guide my hand when I drive ice through your black heart!”

“ENOUGH!” Zamorak roared, making a harsh, grating growl-snarl sound that hurt Jaina’s ears. “You are no ally of mine, serpent. Crawl back to the shadows from whence you came—the Stone is no longer in your possession!”

“Hahaha! Ally? Oh Zammy, I fear I have misled you!” Sliske gave a snorting laugh. “You know better than to think me so unambitious.”

He briefly glanced over at Jaina, his expression suddenly shifting to deathly serious, and mouthed “Don’t stand so close” at her before turning to Zamorak once more, smug smirk right back in place. She straightened up suddenly, remembering his warning, and quickly stepped away from Zamorak.

“You may have reached the Stone, yes,” Sliske was saying, “and it was truly marvelous watching your minions play my games! But to believe it is in your possession? Well…”

“I have already drawn power from it, and even now my strength increases.” Zamorak gave a low growl-hiss that was at least not nearly so hard on the ears. “It is about time you met your end!”

“Ah yes, you can feel the energy, can’t you?” Sliske remarked. “You are addicted, just like Saradomin is, just like Lucien was… and now I am too.”

He looked keenly at Jaina, and she quietly stared back at the both of them. Was he expecting her to come to his aid? No, she could never help Sliske, that treacherous, ugly, sadistic, lying traitor, after all he’d done—and if she did, he would lord it over her endlessly! She would have to watch and wait, it seemed, and only intervene if it looked like Zamorak would claim the Stone.

Snarling viciously, Zamorak cast a spell at Sliske, hitting him square in the shoulder—but Sliske was quick to react, and vanished into the Shadow Realm with the Stone the moment the spell made contact. As he teleported off with it, Jaina merely stood there, staring blankly at the now-empty space.

She was vaguely aware of Zamorak addressing his followers, but was too lost in the swirling storm of her thoughts to pay attention. Why had she been so helpless, so useless, this whole time? Could she have stopped Zamorak from getting the Stone if she’d actually had to? Why had she allowed herself to become so consumed with killing intent when she’d channeled the Stone’s power? She would be no better than the traitors if she let herself become a killing machine… What was Sliske’s warning about exactly? Why had some of the Stone’s power been drawn into her instead of fading from her? And what was Zamorak going to do next?

“Jaina.” Zamorak motioned to her, and she jolted upright, startled, at the sound of his voice. Quickly she turned to him, shivering with worry.

“If you had channeled the Stone’s power with me in a combined attack,” Zamorak said quietly, “we may have had the chance to end Sliske’s life.”

“No.” Jaina steadfastly shook her head, willing herself with all her might not to tremble. “His life is mine to end, and mine alone. It’s… personal.”

“Suit yourself.” Zamorak shook his head, frowning deeply. “Well, you have, at least, been a useful ally to have on our side today. Please visit me at Daemonheim later—I would speak with you privately.” His tone made it sound more like an order than a request.

Jaina shifted uncomfortably, suspecting he wanted to stop her from going to the Zarosians to speak about her experience. “I-I… very well,” she squeaked, not daring to risk further angering a very angry god who’d just used the Stone of Jas by saying she didn’t wish to go.

“Then I shall see you soon.” With that the god of chaos teleported, and Jaina knew she should leave as well. There was no point staying here; she could ponder whatever it was Zamorak wanted to force her into next in a decent place to rest.

~***~

“Welcome back.” The horned god nodded in greeting, and Moia and Bilrach nodded as well. “I presume you have many questions, and that you realize what it is I wished to speak with you further about. Come closer.”

Jaina bit her lip, looking down at the floor as she reluctantly took a few steps forward. “I’m guessing it relates to my allegiance?”

“In part, yes.” Zamorak nodded severely. “I am going to be blunt with you, Jaina, but you need to understand this—your god is dead. I should know—he and I were the only ones present that day.”

Jaina didn’t reply, or even look up. She was not going to tell him the truth about that, no matter how tempting it seemed or how indignant she might feel at any point.

“When I came upon Zaros, he invaded my mind. A cunning trick, but it led to his demise, for I suddenly realized how to use the elder staff I was wielding. I overpowered the Empty Lord and drove it through him, and in a last fit of rage he seized my arms and wrenched me towards him, impaling us both. As his life expired, the staff acted as a conduit, channeling his divine energy into me.” Zamorak paused a moment, scrutinizing her carefully as if to gauge her reaction. “The rush of energy healed my wounds and I rose the victor, forever changed. His body was also quite thoroughly destroyed.”

Jaina remained standing there stiffly, still not looking up or saying anything. It might actually be for the better that Zamorak believed Zaros dead; he might see the Zarosians as less of a threat that way and focus on Saradomin, the Stone, or both instead.

The chaos god’s red eyes narrowed slightly. “Have you nothing to say about this?”

She finally spoke, shaking her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Very well. That is not all I wished to discuss,” Zamorak said sternly. “The Mahjarrat may have made up for their absence at the Battle of Lumbridge, but you have much to account for on that front.”

This time Jaina straightened up, unable to hide her indignance. “Why would I want to help either you or Saradomin destroy my hometown?”

“So it was not merely your misguided loyalty at work,” Zamorak mused. “The battle spurred you into action regardless, did it not? I am aware that you were one of the top contributors, if not the top one, when the townsfolk organized rebuilding efforts afterwards. It was beneficial and brought you all together, as chaos often does—far preferable to continuing to stagnate and stay the same.”

Jaina had to try very hard not to lose her wits, or even raise her voice. “I don’t see how a large gaping crater in the landscape is a good thing, let alone a change for the better.”

“You can hardly fault me for the fact that the largest concentration of Guthixian energies happened to be located underneath a place of sentimental value to you.” When she didn’t reply for a full minute, Zamorak’s eyes narrowed once more. “I suppose at least you spurned Saradomin for those same ridiculous reasons, and perhaps it no longer matters. I was able to draw a lot of power from the Stone in such a short time, and have regained the power I lost to Saradomin. Now are you simply going to continue standing there not speaking? I’m not going to kill you for asking questions.”

Jaina shifted nervously, wondering how long he wanted to keep her for. “Is there anything more you want to tell me?”

“I would answer your questions, if you have them,” Zamorak replied, looking closely at her. “I suspect you are angry at me for more than just Lumbridge.”

She nodded, thinking carefully before she spoke. She wasn’t going to risk asking why he had allied with Saradomin to wipe out the Zarosians; he might be angered, or his answer would only upset her enough to stupidly lash out.

“Why did you curse the dwarves?” she finally asked. “And why did you turn on Char and leave her to die?”

Zamorak uttered a low, harsh growl that caused a cold crawling sensation in her skin. “Char… she was nothing but a Zarosian zealot, blinded by her adoration of him. She was… problematic, to say the least. She might have been a fearsome ally, but she chose to remain a slave to Zaros.” His voice was quiet, even, and chilling. “She attempted to trick me, believing that I could be seduced. She had to be made an example of—I left her close enough to death to ensure that she could not interfere.”

Jaina felt her stomach sharply clench and a cold sweat break out, and she only half heard as he went on to say that he’d wanted the dwarves for his army, and that it had apparently been a mistake he was remorseful for. That didn’t matter to her, though… she felt ready to lose the contents of her stomach, and didn’t want to spend one more minute in his presence, in this dreadful place.

She stepped back, suddenly noticing Bilrach staring intently at her. “Might I take my leave now?” she managed to squeak. “I-I’m feeling a bit queasy… Are you going to track me?”

“No, that would be a waste of time and effort.” Zamorak shook his head. “I know you’re going to run straight back to the Zarosian fools, and that there’s no stopping you. Feel free to tell them anything you wish—that I have become more powerful, that I sought the Stone, that I kick puppies or any other Saradominist nonsense you might have heard in your lifetime—just know that you are supporting a lost cause. I pray you come to understand that someday.”

Jaina turned away, already starting to teleport. Her only concern at the moment was finding somewhere suitable to make a mess in case she did get sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I do something far different from the actual quest! I had to do something different from a boss fight because of the game-changer at play--Sliske would not go to all that trouble and then risk harming the baby and making all his efforts be in vain. I know having him capable of conjuring such detailed scenes makes him OP, but then again, he already is OP in canon...
> 
> Speaking of OP-ness, it was pretty fun to write Jaina being drunk on power, especially right on the heels of the previous scene... as for Jerrod, did he actually die from the wounds she gave him? Or was he merely maimed and somehow survived? I leave that a mystery! Either way, he won't be quite so able to go around killing people after this.
> 
> I do hope it isn't frustrating that she hasn't connected the dots as to what the readers know yet... but then again, given what all she's just been through, it wouldn't make sense for her to come to that conclusion.
> 
> Zammy, I don't think you're doing a very good job making your philosophy appeal to her there... Then again, it would be extremely hard to justify yourself to her after the Battle of Lumbridge anyway...
> 
> Onward to the final part...


	3. Chapter 3

The sound of her light steps racing across the floor reached Azzanadra’s keen ears almost immediately, but it felt no less sudden when he turned around and she wordlessly flung her arms around his waist. Not that he was complaining, but this was unusual—even now, she would usually come in quietly and greet him with a smile and a hello. She must have come across something distressing, and likely sought comfort in his presence. Well, he could certainly use her company after a good deal of searching for the Elder Halls with no luck so far.

Jaina looked up, gasping for breath. “Ah… Sorry I didn’t even say hello, but…”

Azzanadra frowned deeply, looking her over worriedly. “What is it? What happened?”

“Zamorak happened,” she answered quietly. “He wanted the Stone of Jas and he blackmailed me into helping him try to get it!”

Stepping back, she proceeded to describe the blackmail and Zamorak’s attempt for the Stone, and he had to remind himself that he must listen quietly and control his anger at the usurper, especially in this holy place. It was far easier said than done, though—it was one thing for Zamorak to be so desperate for power that he would go after the Stone of Jas, and quite another for him to have forced Jaina into his scheme as well.

When she mentioned that Sliske had spoken of his experiment on her, claiming it was successful, he straightened up suddenly, only half paying attention to the rest of her tale. This was too important to wait to relay to Zaros later—she needed to tell him herself and be examined right away!

“I never thought it would be good news to say that the Stone remains in Sliske’s possession, but it is because it means Zamorak doesn’t have it,” she finished, looking down at her hands. “I only wish I could have done more to stop him… At least he believes Zaros dead, so he will hopefully not see us as a threat…”

“We must hope you are right about that,” Azzanadra said, nodding severely. “And we must inform our lord directly of exactly what Sliske said about his experiment! He will be better able to assess what precisely happened to you than I, see if any harm has befallen you.”

Jaina nodded and bit her lip. “Yes… but how are we going to find him on such short notice?”

“Do you forget the capabilities of the communion portal?” he reminded her, and assumed his true form as he approached the portal. “My lord, I beseech thee—there is an urgent matter at hand! It pertains to Jaina, specifically Sliske’s accursed experimentation with her. She says he claimed to have been successful in achieving its goal!”

It wasn’t long before the portal glowed and the Empty Lord’s voice came through. “She requires further examination, I take it?”

Azzanadra nodded. “Yes, my lord. I pray this is not a bad time to request your aid.”

“No, I shall arrive shortly.” The portal’s glow faded, and soon Zaros himself appeared before it. Immediately Azzanadra dropped to one knee, bowing before him. “It is always good to see you again, my lord…”

“You as well,” Zaros said, nodding in greeting. “World Guardian, did Sliske say anything regarding his experiments on you? You must tell me everything you can of the matter.”

Jaina nodded. “Well, um… when he examined me, he seemed surprised by something… he didn’t just say it was successful; he said it was more successful than he could’ve expected. I don’t know what he meant by that, but he warned me to stay away from Zamorak and the other Mahjarrat… He was very serious about it too…”

That seemed a strange thing for Sliske to ask of her. Was there something she had needed to hide from the traitors? She would not need to worry about disguising her life-force, and she would have stayed away from them regardless had she not been blackmailed. And it was troubling that the end result of whatever Sliske had done would surprise him; for all his unpredictability, he normally had a clear goal in mind…

It was too soon to start thinking about what Sliske deserved, Azzanadra reminded himself. He must first know precisely what had happened, ensure that something could be done for Jaina’s sake, and then he could plan how to make him pay. The same went for the traitors—think first, consider the consequences, devise a plan, and only then take action…

“Presumably he did not give you any details?” questioned Zaros.

“No, he would only say that I had all the clues to figure it out.” She frowned uncertainly, wringing her hands. “But I don’t know what to make of any of it… all I know is it involved divine energy, and after I touched the Stone, not all of its power faded from me. Something inside me pulled some of it in, and now that I think about it, that might relate to whatever Sliske did…”

Zaros was quiet for a long moment, likely pondering the details. At last he spoke again. “I see. You must permit me to examine you more closely, see what this experiment has wrought.”

Jaina nodded and took a step forward, and Zaros laid his hands upon her head and concentrated silently. Azzanadra recalled the times he’d likened her hair color to resulting from such a gesture; it was perhaps a ridiculous image, but it did help take his mind off Zamorak and the traitors.

He could not resist speaking up once Zaros drew back. “Did you find anything harmful or dangerous, my lord?”

Zaros shook his head. “She is not harmed, however, there are definitely potential risks… I do not know the extent of those risks for sure. Perhaps I should have considered this sooner; it all makes perfect sense given what she has described.”

Jaina suddenly stood up straighter. “Oh, pardon me, my lord, but…” She frowned and bit her lip, her voice shaking when she spoke. “I-I forgot to say so sooner, but Sliske… I know you know, my lord, but he was never loyal at all… He told Zamorak he knew about the betrayal from the start, but he chose not to inform anyone because he thought the empire was boring!”

Azzanadra’s eyes narrowed sharply, and he let out a furious, guttural snarl. “He did _what?_ ”

Jaina nodded, her voice still shaking. “He was just as complicit in the betrayal as any of the traitors!”

“That treacherous, accursed, wretched!...” Azzanadra blasted a spell out the temple entrance, uttering a deep, harsh growl-snarl; the Freneskaen tongue was far more fitting to describe what Sliske was. “And to think we trusted him! For so long, too… When I see him next, I will crush his skull and melt that sickeningly smug grin off his face!”

Icicles rose up around him on the floor as he imagined all the things he could do to Sliske, the screams that would escape his throat as he slowly gave him everything he deserved. As he conjured more ice, he was only vaguely aware of Jaina staring at him with wide eyes, slowly backing away.

“World Guardian,” he heard Zaros say, “it is best that you leave us for now. You will be informed further at the soonest time possible.”

“Y-yes, my lord…” She very hastily curtsied and then teleported off somewhere, just as Azzanadra had completed an icy likeness of Sliske. He paused briefly to look it over, and then roared loudly as he blasted its head halfway across the room.

“Azzanadra, stop. Control yourself!”

The sound of his lord’s voice startled him, and Azzanadra stopped blasting the ice sculpture’s torso to pieces and spun around to face him. Rarely did Zaros ever feel the need to shout…

Seeing the Empty Lord’s austere gaze upon him, he froze in place, realizing what he had done, and fell prostrate before him. “My sincerest apologies, my lord… You have taught me better than that. I should have controlled myself… I may have inadvertently destroyed this holy temple, or misfired at you… or Jaina…”

He suddenly vividly remembered the look in her eyes as she stared at him, just before she’d fled. It was a look he knew all too well—it was the look of the armies of the traitors before he put them to the flame in one fell swoop, the look of the unarmed faithful as they stared helplessly at oncoming Saradominist warriors, the look of a Mahjarrat chosen as sacrifice as he was dragged to the marker stone…

Would she still trust him after this? Would she fear him? Would she flee from him again when he sought her out next? He may have already hurt her with his recklessness; the harshest words of his mother tongue were not meant for human ears…

“The World Guardian should not have witnessed that,” Zaros said, shaking his head. “Furthermore, her current condition is very important, and it is imperative that she know immediately. Sliske is the least of our priorities at present.”

“I understand, and I will not lose my control again,” Azzanadra said, nodding steadfastly. “What did you find out, and should I go and inform her?”

“It is… perhaps fitting that you tell her.” Zaros motioned for him to rise. “Listen closely, for this is just as important to you as well…”

~***~

She slowly awoke in the middle of the night to a large, strong hand slowly stroking her stomach, and she blinked in confusion as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Her dream—something about it raining runes while walking in the courtyard of a version of Lumbridge Castle that was made of clouds—still partially lingered in her mind. She’d been sitting on the edge of a fountain which had runes flowing from it instead of water when she’d suddenly seen a hand emerge from the clouds, and then she felt it cradle her stomach, urging her to awaken—and she already knew who owned the hand.

The first thing she saw was the moonlight shining through the open window, illuminating her bedroom just enough for her to see clearly. She yawned and stretched, and then slowly, apprehensively turned to look at her lover beside her. He was sitting just on the side of the bed and facing her, looking greatly concerned as he gazed down at her.

“Oh… good evening, Azzanadra.” Jaina smiled a little at the sight of him, and then frowned thoughtfully. “Or is it good morning now? Or good midnight, perhaps? I don’t know…”

Azzanadra gave a sad sigh and offered his other hand to her to help her up. “I must apologize greatly for frightening you, my dear… such behavior was completely unbecoming of me. It was inexcusable of me not to control myself, to disregard Zaros’ greatest teaching… especially since…” He ran his hand along her stomach again.

Jaina bit her lip, strands of hair falling in her eyes as she accepted his free hand and sat up. “Please, I-I can’t fault you for being angry… I was furious when I heard, and I wanted to kill him for what he did too… it’s just… I always knew I wouldn’t want you as an enemy…” Her voice was shaking slightly. “I shouldn’t have angered you, either…”

“I do not wish you to fear me, or to find me intimidating,” he whispered, lightly cradling her hand. “The fault is mine for putting you in harm’s way, and for conducting myself so irreverently in such a holy place. Do not feel ashamed for your honesty; you were right to tell us… but let us speak no more of it; there is little point to dwelling on the matter. There is a far more important matter to be discussed.”

Jaina straightened up a bit, blinking. “It’s what Zaros was about to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Indeed,” Azzanadra said, closely cradling her stomach again. “Zaros sensed a presence within you. I can feel it now as well, although only if I touch you and focus… Had I not been so worried for you, I might have sensed it sooner. Jaina, you are with child.”

It took a moment for the realization to sink in. “I-I am?” She brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “How… how long have I been…? I can’t be that far along, if I haven’t noticed anything yet…”

“That I do not know, other than that it is still very early along. I assume you would not have suspected anything on your own until you began to swell?”

She nodded. “Your life-force sense must be very handy for such things; it seems much more reliable than waiting for my dress to become too tight…”

Drawing herself up straighter, she smiled broadly up at him. “So this is your child… our child… oh Zaros, Azzanadra, you’re going to be a father!” Excitedly she rose up on her knees, pulling him into a tight hug.

He returned the embrace, but she noticed he was still frowning, and she tilted her head in confusion. “Aren’t you happy or excited at all?”

“I am,” he assured her, letting one hand catch in her hair, “but this news is not entirely joyous, I fear. Your pregnancy may have complications that you would not have with a fully human baby, and even if it goes smoothly, the birth itself will certainly be more dangerous. We do not know what exactly you will have to endure…” He brushed the remaining stray strands of hair out of her eyes. “Furthermore, I can see why Sliske was so shocked… Zaros sensed two presences within you…”

Her eyes widened. “Two presences? We’re having twins?”

“Indeed, and I cannot help but be greatly worried.” His frown seemed to deepen further. “Mahjarrat have a much lower birth rate than humans; siblings were rare, and multiple births were unheard of!”

Jaina glanced down at her stomach quietly. So this would be another thing she would be the first to do… of course, news of twins would have greatly surprised her regardless, but she’d never have found out there were two of them this soon had they been fully human…

Her eyes grew even wider as it occurred to her that she must have been carrying them during that dreadful tournament, and that they were why Sliske had warned her to stay away from the Zamorakians… Graardor might have taken three lives instead of one that day, or wounded her badly enough to kill them… and who knew what the traitors would do if they knew! She did her best not to cry as she cradled her stomach with both hands. “I’m sorry, little ones… I didn’t know you were there, but… I never should’ve put you in danger like that… It won’t happen again, promise…”

Azzanadra pulled her closer, sliding one hand under her nightdress to caress her stomach more closely. She could feel his other hand squeeze her shoulder, encouraging her to let go the tension. “Do not trouble yourself over things you aren’t to blame for. The traitors will be made to pay for everything eventually… You must focus on keeping our children and yourself safe and healthy now that we know.”

Already Jaina felt more relaxed, and couldn’t help but revel in the comfort he provided. Indeed, she shouldn’t despair… she wouldn’t be helpless or useless, not this time. She would do her best, look to the coming months with courage and confidence, learn to be the mother they needed her to be!

She turned to meet his gaze. “Yes… you have always believed in me, and I haven’t let you down yet! Besides, if I could brave the frozen north alone and live, if I could duel the other gods’ greatest elites and live, if I could face the actual manifestation of a god two different times and live, if I could survive Freneskae and manage to restore our god when no one else could, I can surely bear your children and live to tell the tale.”

Slowly she reached up to trace his face stripes, slipping her other arm around his shoulder. Uttering a deep purring sound, he leaned in to capture her lips, and she gave a contented sigh as she smiled into it.

When they drew back, Jaina closed her eyes, trying to think ahead. There was much she would need to do—she would need clothes to accommodate her figure as it changed, potions to deal with any sickness, toys, blankets, diapers, and clothes for the twins… and a room for them would need to be set up, and it would need a crib, a mobile, a changing space, storage for their clothes and diapers… and the question of where she’d give birth was uncertain, too…

What would any Saradominist do if they saw her with half-breed children? What would the Zamorakians do? Did Zamorak already know, or had she been careful enough? And what was Sliske’s role in all this—would he harm her children?

At least she would never be alone in this, and she couldn’t let her worries consume her. Their father would be there for them as well, and it wouldn’t be just him, either…

“We should tell the others soon, yes?”

Azzanadra nodded. “I have already asked my brothers to meet with us tomorrow to hear the news; they will be willing to assist you where needed. The desert faithful will likely wish to help as well—and I, of course, will look after you as best I can.”

“Thank you so much…” Resting her head on his shoulder, Jaina pulled him into a tight hug once more. “You’ve counted on me so much before… And now, it seems, it’s my turn to rely on you.”

~***~

“You sensed it, master?”

“Yes, it was as you said.” Zamorak nodded in agreement. “It was ever so faint, but regaining my strength allowed me to notice it, even for a fleeting moment.”

“Even I could barely detect the presence,” Bilrach noted. “I could have sworn it felt slightly different upon a second glance at times, but it was most assuredly there.”

“What is this presence you speak of, my lord?” Moia piped up. “It must be important indeed.”

“Indeed it is,” Zamorak replied, nodding slowly. “I was greatly surprised! It was when the World Guardian was here—Bilrach detected a Mahjarrat presence.”

“It was faint, weak, but a Mahjarrat nonetheless—and it felt quite similar to your life-force, Moia,” Bilrach added. “Had I been able to touch her, I could have sensed it far more clearly, but she was very much on her guard…”

“Indeed,” said Zamorak, “but we know now that she is with child. This… changes much.”

Moia tensed up. “That means there will soon be another like me… I…” She looked down at the floor. “I must apologize, my lord… I did not suspect that her lover would be a Mahjarrat; there are still Zarosian humans at large, after all…”

“We are certainly all surprised here,” Zamorak mused. “This does mean we know precisely why she was swayed to their cause, and that we can more easily narrow down the identity of her child’s father.”

Moia looked thoughtful. “Do you think that it could be Sliske?”

Zamorak shook his head. “No, she disproved that possibility—even at the Empyrean Citadel, she already seemed to despise him. That foul serpent is many things, but not at all the sort to force himself upon a human woman. He would have used guile and charm to seduce her, and she would have rushed to his aid if he were the father—besides, she spoke like a devoted zealot, except even more blind because she never knew Zaros or the empire! Sliske would not have taught her the ways of Zarosian theology; he would have taught her trickery and deception.”

“She does not strike me as remotely skilled at such things,” Moia commented. “Come to think of it, if Sliske were the father, she surely would have taken the soonest opportunity to sabotage the operation and hamper our path to the Stone.”

“That leaves three possible fathers,” Zamorak said ponderously, resting his head in his hand as he sank down comfortably onto his throne.

“But which deluded dunce is it?” Bilrach paused, looking up at the ceiling. “Hmmm, do you think it could be Akthanakos? He always was fascinated by this world’s unintelligent creatures.”

“While we cannot rule him out, he has always seemed more interested in animals and plants than in humans,” the chaos god said. “I suspect he likely would have been too busy training attack beasts to pursue a human… and that fool Azzanadra is too fatuously obsessed with Zaros this and Zaros that to remember anything else even exists…”

He shifted on his throne, resting his head in his other hand. “That leaves Wahisietel… for all his skill as a general and knowledge of strategy and tactics, he preferred to squander his time on books and research. Such a waste of talent… On the other hand, given the vast scope of what he read and researched, he did study much about the ways of humans…”

“You believe he’s the most likely?” wondered Bilrach. “I am not sure he would abandon his research long enough to father a child.”

“He may well have been curious about whether Mahjarrat were compatible with humans, just as Lucien once was,” Zamorak pointed out. “Yes, I suspect that Wahisietel is the father—from what Hazeel told me of the last Ritual, she attended along with him and openly aided the Zarosians, and he did duel Lucien to protect her and her allies. He may be the most sensible of them, but he would have still taught her Zarosian theology and about what a terrible thing the empire’s demise was. They likely bonded over sharing new discoveries and research with one another.”

Moia shifted a bit uncomfortably where she stood. “Since we know she is with child and have an idea of the father, my lord, do you plan to do anything from here? Shall I seek out this Wahisietel and keep an eye out for any visits the World Guardian pays him?”

“We should indeed form a plan,” Bilrach added. “This may well be a ploy by the Zarosians to gain someone to rival Moia—and if the World Guardian dies giving birth, they will be her child’s sole influence.”

“Oh, do you think she will survive the birth?” Moia asked uncertainly. “I never knew my mother or what her fate was, but it is likely that I may have taken her life entering the world…”

“That I cannot say.” Zamorak frowned, sitting up straighter. “However, what we ultimately do does hinge on whether she lives or dies. Either way, her child will never live up to its true potential if it stays with its father and grows up harping about Zaros and how he’ll return someday. It would be far more fitting for a fellow half-breed to tutor the child, yes?”

“It would be an honor, my lord!” Moia proudly answered, bowing deeply. “What do you propose we do if she lives?”

“She must come to understand my philosophy,” Zamorak said, shifting a bit to straighten out his cramped wing. “It will be better for us all if she willingly brings the child to you to learn. However, that would be far easier said than done, given that the Zarosians have already gotten their claws into her.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Bilrach remarked. “She must be riddled with many scars by now!”

“As difficult as that would be,” Zamorak continued, not even acknowledging Bilrach’s comment, “it will likely be even more difficult if she dies. Trying to get the child away from its father would likely provoke him and the others into retaliating, and we cannot underestimate them—they are formidable opponents, and will certainly stop at nothing to get the child back. However, we have time before we act on this matter. The Stone is our topmost priority at present, and she won’t be able to hide her child forever. As she begins to swell, so too will its life-force.”

Moia nodded slowly. “So it will be simple enough for the spies and I to find out more, a little at a time.”

“Indeed.” Zamorak nodded, resting his head on the back of his throne. “Perhaps we will not have to act much at all. The chaos and adversity she will face by merely carrying a half-Mahjarrat child should help her come to understand our ways—and if she lives, she will surely see that it has made her stronger.”

Bilrach frowned deeply. “I will trust your judgment, my lord, but I must deeply pray that you turn out to be correct.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this ended on a suspenseful note! Of course, I'm sure everyone but Jaina saw that one coming.
> 
> So Sliske provided an excuse for me to show a scary Azzy for once! I wanted to write that in part to prove that I don't think he's a sweet adorable lovemuffin, but more importantly, given how long Sliske managed to convince him that he was actually loyal, the knowledge of the extent of his duplicity would logically be enough to make him snap. On the other hand, writing any scene with just him and Zaros risks diminishing the mystery behind the Empty Lord. Some things are more powerful and interesting if kept offscreen, you know? The downside to depicting more negative traits, on the other hand, is that I also have to avoid making the core romance look unhealthy or creepy, since I'm not trying to write something messed-up. A lot of this part I definitely could have very easily botched!
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated, and I hope you enjoy!


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